Swan Song
by seastarved
Summary: Come along and listen for the storyteller is about to begin. He is about to tell a tale that people come to hear from all over the kingdom. The tale of a Lost Princess who learned how to love, of a Pirate who became a hero. An epic tale to be sure, but be careful, tonight is a night of shadows and reflections and you never know what you will see if you look into a mirror too long.


Graphic here: tmblr . co/ZVRwvr1xDO9FS

Disclaimer: I own nought but the words from my head.

* * *

There is a tale that is told gathered round the fire on cold and stormy nights, when branches clatter against windows, when the wind whistles through the cracks in the walls, when hands are wrapped around warm drinks and fingers are tangled in one another.

There is a tale that is told on warm summer nights, by beautiful maidens to their new lovers, in husky voices and heated touches, in lingering shivers and lips pressed against heartbeats.

There is a tale that is told when there is not a star in the sky and the very air feels full of stories, when every breeze sounds like weeping, when every shadow in the darkness is a lost soul, when the warmth of the fire is the only haven from the raging quiet of the world outside.

There is a tale that is told on almost every night somewhere in this world, where magic runs through the earth, where true love lives and thrives, pumping strong and powerful in the veins of its people.

But, it is a tale that is told especially tonight.

Tonight, when the meadow by the river, barren throughout the year comes alive with Middlemist flowers, their scent heady in the air. Tonight, when the waters go still and the melody of a half-forgotten song wanders restlessly through the air. Tonight, when every mirror is covered, every reflection shied from. Tonight, when, if you arrive at the right time, you might see them.

The woman in white. Her hair a brilliant gold, her eyes a flash of green. Her every breath a soft laugh, her voice a secret song.

The man in black and crimson. His body straight and tall, the curve of his metal hand glinting in the moonlight. His arms strong as they wrap around her, his smile an intimate conversation.

They move together in their field of flowers, happy and blissful, lost in one another. But, you must be careful never to be seen. For her laugh is for his ears alone, his kiss only for her. For if they see you come upon them on this night of all nights, you may never see the sun rise again.

But, let us start at the beginning where most stories begin.

Once Upon a Time.

* * *

In a land not quite so far away, there lived a woman. But, before she was a woman, she was a girl, and before that she was a princess.

Lost to her parents as a baby, the princess grew up in a world that cared not for her tender heart and gentle soul, nor for the magic that ran through her veins, and so she changed. Forged of steel and tempered in flames, she grew to be a fierce and strong woman, her heart surrounded by a wall she had spent years building. Brick by brick, it grew tall and sturdy, topped with broken glass to hurt any who dared to climb it. Inside the walls, her patched up heart lay safe, locked behind doors she dared not open for fear of her heart crumbling to dust in careless hands.

Until one day, a little boy found her. He showed her that love and family do not exist only in dreams, that hearts are meant for loving, that forgiveness lives in youngest of souls. He called her _mother_.

And he brought her home.

In a land a little further away, there lived a man. His heart was a boundless thing, his love a sight to behold. For when he loved, he loved with his whole body. He kept whispered words hidden in his lungs and poetry carved into his ribs. His love aglow in the depths of his blue, blue eyes, in the smiles tucked into the corners of his mouth, in the gentle touch of his hands.

But, as much as he was a creature made to love, he was a man who lost it all. Again and again, he lost the people he loved; his mother, his father, his brother, his first love. He lost them all. To magic, to evil, to death. He lost them until his boundless heart became a withered thing, until his love, defeated, retreated behind his eyes, until the man became a pirate and the pirate became a lost boy.

When they first met, the wounds upon her soul were tender still. Even though she had allowed others to look into the room that held her heart, allowed herself to feel strings tether her to this place, these people. Even though she had allowed herself to stay, allowed herself to know the life that was meant to be hers, before she was lost. Even though she had allowed herself to love, to _want_ , the doors to her soul were still locked, the walls around her heart as strong as ever, the glass still ready to cut.

She wasn't ready to _be_ loved.

When they first met, he was a blind man. He could see nought but the blood in his eyes, the fire in his veins.

For you see, a demon had come upon his ship one afternoon. He had made the man kneel, made him scream and shout and beg. He had made him watch as his love fell, watch as the deck of his ship stained red, watch as her lips whispered her love in her last breaths. The demon had taken from him. He had taken the laughter in his heart, the hand on his left arm, the spark in his eyes.

And so, the pirate sought revenge.

When they first met, their jagged edges would not fit. Her heart too cautious, his own too bruised. So, they fought instead, against one another, against the cacophony in their souls telling them again and again that this is the one. This is the person who will love you, this is the person who was made to love you.

He fell first.

He tasted her lips and felt her skin on a moonlit night in the meadow beside the river.

She had come to him that night, grateful and glad. For you see, pirate though he was, the man was brave and honourable. His courage lived in his spine, keeping it straight and tall. He had saved the princess's father from a loathsome beast that had come upon them in the woods and the princess wanted to thank him. She put her palm to her chest where her heart lay, and whispered her thanks. The pirate smiled, his own heart squeezing in joy. He could not tell her then that he loved her, for he did not know it yet, so he put his hand to his lips and asked for a favour. It was but a jest, a man following the pull of his soul, following some half formed, half understood thought, some nebulous desire to have her closer, to see her smile.

But the princess kissed him then. Her own heart skipping a beat at the touch of his skin, growing impossibly bright in her chest. The light was too much for the princess, still afraid to open the doors to her locked heart.

So, she ran.

And even as she left him stranded, the water babbling behind him, unhurried, the flowers dancing in the light breeze. Even as the world went on as it had before, he felt the cobwebs fall away from his dusty heart, felt the blood fade from the corners of his eyes, until all there was, was her.

He realised that day, not that he loved her— no, that came much later— but that he _could_.

So, he stood beside her and asked for nothing in return. He stood beside her through light and dark, through joy and sorrow, through to the ends of the world or time. He stood beside her, grateful for being able to, grateful for being allowed to make her smile, grateful for being there to hold her up if she fell.

He stood beside her and he loved her. In every way that he could, he loved her. He did not try and scale her walls like all the ones who had come before. No, he knocked it down. Brick by brick, he brought down the great wall that rose around her heart.

And when he stood at the doors of her soul with bloody fingers and open palm, the princess let him in. She unlocked her doors, their hinges creaking from disuse and she handed him her patchwork heart.

She kissed him then, his hand, his heart and his lips.

And allowed herself to love him.

The pirate and the princess had many adventures together. They loved and lived in her kingdom, tearing down any obstacle in their path, any power that threatened to hurt their home. For they had found it. The lost little girl had found her home in her kingdom, her family, her love. And the lost boy had found it in her.

But, one night a great darkness descended upon the kingdom. It put out every light, every lamp, every star in the sky until it felt as though the very air would swallow you whole. The princess was distraught, angry that her kingdom was wounded, angry that her family was threatened. But she was afraid, for she knew what she had to do. The magic inside her was calling out to the darkness, inviting it in like an old friend, making room in her body for it to make its home.

She knew then that she would have to fall, for her home to be safe.

So, she said goodbye. She kissed her son on his forehead, his small fingers. She held her mother in her arms and let her dress stain with her mother's tears. She fell into her father's embrace and let him hold her up one last time.

And finally she embraced _him_ , she wiped his tears and drowned out his protests with her words of love. She put his hand to her chest where her heart lay and whispered her thanks, just like that night many moons ago.

She thanked him for loving her and told him that she would never stop. She kissed him one last time, their lips wet with tears, their eyes burning.

And then, the darkness took her.

It slithered into the space between her ribs, into the deepest corners of her mind, into the smallest veins in her fingers. It tainted her magic, the bright light of it going murky. It tainted her thoughts, steering her again and again to the hurt in her life, the pain and the betrayal. But, worst of all, it crept into the cracks in her heart. It made her feel whole in a way that she had never been before and she allowed it, embraced it. She told herself that it was because she was keeping them safe, the people she loved but she knew the truth of it. The darkness was a seductive thing and it pulled at her, it coaxed her into false comfort and though she fought, she could not resist it.

And the darkness won.

The man despaired to watch his love change in this way. Her skin pale, her hair dull, her lips stained the colour of blood. She was different now. Her eyes held no spark, her smile a cruel stab in his gut. But he loved her still, for he could not help himself. The princess had crawled into his very bones. Her laugh lived in the warmth of his chest, her tears in the burning of his eyes. Her kiss in the tingling in his lips, her touch in the heat licking up his arm. She had become the air in his lungs, the beat in his heart.

And he swore everyday that he would bring her back to herself.

He spent his days with her family, somehow become his own, to find a way to dispel the darkness from her. They travelled to witches and wizards of great repute, to valleys and mountains, ready to trade anything away at a chance to bring their princess home. But, they met failure and disappointment at every turn.

And she watched them.

She watched them flounder and flail, desperate and helpless and though the darkness told her that it was endlessly amusing, her heart, locked up deeper still now, broke away a little bit at a time at every choked sob, every silent tear, every sleepless night. And still, she could not defeat it. The demon in her bones told her that she was whole, that her heart would not ache anymore, that she could not be hurt if she hurt first.

That she would be stronger, better without them.

She tried, she _tried_ with every shred of strength left in her to fight it but she could not, for her heart was hollow now, eaten away by the demon in her soul. She fought until she could fight no more.

And then the darkness came for them.

It twisted her thoughts, her memories until the princess believed, truly believed from the depths of herself that her family were responsible for her pain, for the ache that would not leave her, the ache that spread from her heart to her legs.

She came upon them one day, in the meadow by the river. She watched her parents, her son, her love, sit in the sun without her, she watched them smile gently across at one another, she watched them survive, go on without her and the darkness _burned_.

The magic left her fingertips in an instant, black and stormy, it sped forward to where her son stood with her pirate. As it got closer and closer to them, the princess' heart beat faster and faster, the light magic inside her struggling stronger than ever. Her love for them rose inside her in a massive wave, determined to stop the darkness' assault.

But, she was too late.

The man had seen her arms rise, her eyes flash in the afternoon sun and he had known. He had pushed her son away and run towards her, her name upon his breath even as her magic hit him in his chest where his heart lay. She felt the scream inside her, her heart beating a riotous rhythm, her stomach turning in panic even as the man slowly fell to the ground. She felt her magic soar, spark at her fingertips as it fought the darkness, as it pushed it out of her skin. She felt it go, ripped away from all the secret places inside her. She felt it leave the the space between her ribs, the deepest corners of her mind, the smallest veins in her fingers.

She felt it leave, and she watched it go into him.

Her hands dropped to her sides, trembling as she ran to him. She lay his head upon her knees and wept, her hands caressing his forehead again and again, begging for him to open his eyes and look upon her again, for him to smile at her again. But he would not, for his soul was torn apart by the darkness, his heart slowing down, his body fading away.

She bowed her head over his body, and shook him, whispering now, her hands running over his rapidly cooling skin but he would not wake. She tried to use her magic but it could not stand against the darkness eating away at his body, his soul and he would not wake. She kissed him, willed her love for him to bring him back. She kissed his hand, his heart, his lips. But, he would not wake.

His body began to disappear faster, his legs, his arms but, even as he vanished from beneath her fingers, he smiled.

For you see, the man had held a secret. He had known. He had always known that she would come back to him, that she was strong, that her heart was whole and full and beautiful, that she would defeat the darkness.

A wizard with an ancient smile and sad eyes had told him that the only way to free her was a trade.

A life for a life.

And he had given his gladly.

The pirate left this world with a smile upon his lips and her name in his heart.

But, the princess was left with nought but a stain of blood, crimson and bright in the afternoon sun and a ring, the only thing of his, left behind once the darkness had taken him and faded away. Her pain was a terrible thing, for even though the only evidence of it was the wetness upon her cheeks and the tremble in her fingers, she was broken.

For he was gone and he had taken her heart with him.

She stood tall above the place where he had been and cast a spell, a desperate attempt to keep some part of him with her. She cast a spell and the blood and the ring disappeared. The meadow wilting, the grass dying away and the flowers drooping. Life disappeared from the meadow that day along with the princess' smile.

She wore the ring around her neck close to her heart. As for the blood, there now hung a painting in the room where the princess slept. It was a melancholy thing, a painting of a beautiful man with sad, sad eyes. She looked upon it every morning and every night. She stood in front of the picture of her love, her hands outstretched, tracing his face, his features, again and again.

But, the strangest thing about the painting was the fact that it was pale, colourless. The man painted in varying shades of black, grey and white. Except for the vest that he wore, the same vest that he had worn the night she had kissed him for the first time, the same vest he had worn the night she had given herself to him.

The vest that glows a deep, vivid crimson.

The princess had tried, you see, to keep him here, to keep a part of him with her. She kept it in the colour in the painting and every morning and every night she tried. She tried to turn the paint and the canvas into flesh and blood, to turn the ring around her neck and the stain upon the canvas into strong arms that would lay around her waist, into the soft whispers that would tickle her skin.

But it would not work and soon, she began to fade away, her skin losing its blush, her body slowing and stuttering for her heart was broken in two and no one can go on with a heart so damaged. Her family tried to make her better. She loved them with all the little pieces of her heart that were left, so she tried.

She tried to go on without him. She tried to live, to eat and laugh and dance but she could not. For every time that she did, she felt his absence. It was a constant ache in the centre of her chest, it was an itch in her fingers as her body searched for him, her eyes seeking him out in every day corner, every shadow in the afternoon sun.

And everyday she stood in front of his painting and she begged for him to come back to her, to not leave her alone like this, to hold her again, to kiss her again. Every day she begged, but he would not answer. His skin remained pale, his eyes grey.

Until one night, the same night when years ago she had kissed him in the meadow by the river, she came to his painting. This time, she did not beg for him to return. This time, she begged for him to take her with him.

Slowly, she watched, her vision blurring from tears as his arm reached for her, his image coming alive in from top her. His skin was ruddy with life, his eyes sparkling with joy even as he whispered to her to stay behind. He told her that he would wait for her behind every mirror, behind the clear waters of the river. He told her he would wait but her heart was finally whole again and she could not bear to lose him once more, so she kissed him. She kissed his hand, his heart, his lips and she held on to the curve of his metal hand and let him take her.

The painting went blank that day.

Her son found her room empty the next morning. He ran his fingers over the blank surface of the painting and smiled, for though he was sad, his chest constricting, his cheeks wet, he knew now that she was with her love. He knew that his mother was happy.

So you see, that is why they warn you to stay away, for this night the pirate and his princess return. They come back to the meadow by the river and they live again. They live for all the days that were stolen from them and they love for all the times that they couldn't.

On this night, they live behind every mirror in this kingdom, they live in every still pail of water and if you look hard enough you will see them.

You will see her laugh. You will see him smile.

But beware and don't look too long, for you may get lost in the sweep of her gown as she dances, in the depths of his eyes as he looks at her until it is all you see, until the world around you disappears, until they rule your mind, your heart.

Beware and don't look too long for once you have gotten lost, you may never find yourself again.


End file.
